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“Were when I was brought up,” Duncan says with a smirk on his face.
He walks over to my side and takes my hand in his, taunting Dugald. Dugald turns partly away, staring off the edge of the tower.
“Whatever Quinn thinks,” Dugald says.
“It’s magic; there could be,” I say. “Unless you have a better idea?”
Dugald doesn’t answer, but instead goes to the stairs and descends leaving Duncan and me alone for a moment. Duncan looks at me with a boyish grin and eyes alight.
“Be nice to him,” I say, and his grin turns down into a frown.
“Was I not?”
“No,” I say. “And don’t play dumb. He cares deeply for me, but I’ve chosen you. There is no need to flaunt it.”
“Quinn, I’ll not compete for your attention,” he says, his voice and face serious. “What do you mean you’ve chosen me?”
“It’s a story much longer than we have time to go into but for now, don’t tease him. He’s hurting, okay?”
Duncan doesn’t really answer, but he shrugs and gives a half-nod. I can’t read Duncan’s face, but this is all the agreement I’m likely to get so I’ll take it. I hold out my hand and he takes it, then I lead us to the stairs and follow Dugald down.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Dugald is waitingon the first landing and turns to look when he hears our footsteps.
“The MacGregor is right,” he says, pointing.
When we reach the landing next to him there is a hall that I know as well as Dugald does wasn’t there before. He and I exchange a look and I shake my head.
“Right, shall we?” I ask.
Dugald draws his sword and leads the way. Duncan drops back to bring up the rear and I accept my place in the middle, not missing the multiple layers of metaphor, both sexual and spiritual in the positioning.
The hall seems to stretch forever. It’s paneled with dark wood that has a red tint and knotty swirls in it. While I can see, there is no obvious light source. We walk thirty or forty feet, then there are two doors, one on either side. The three of us look at each other questioningly but both doors look identical.
“True adventurers always go left,” I say, repeating a mantra a friend of mine who was really intoDungeons and Dragonsused to say when I was a kid.
“Left, fine,” Dugald says.
He moves to the side of the door, motions for the two of us to stand back. He presses himself against the wall, holds the door handle, then he opens the door. My stomach is tense, expecting something to burst out and attack us but nothing happens.
Dugald darts his head around the corner, pulling back as fast as he looks, then he steps away from the wall and walks inside. Duncan and I follow him into the room.
It looks like an abandoned bedroom. A large four-poster dominates one wall with a moth eaten comforter covering the mattress. Thick velour curtains hang loose from the upper frame, restricting view of the bed itself. A full, carved wood wardrobe is on the far wall and a chest of drawers is to my right.
“Is there anyone here?” I ask, staring at the bed.
Nothing happens and no one responds. Dugald stalks towards it like a cat, his sword point leading the way. The tip parts through the curtains and then he uses it to pull them aside. The bed is empty, though the sheets are crumpled and unmade.
Duncan pushes past me and goes to the wardrobe. I see him about to open it and try to call out for him to wait since he’s unarmed but he opens it before I can speak. A few moths flutter out of the opening but nothing else. The wardrobe is empty.
“Nothing here,” he says.
I nod and go to the chest of drawers. I dig through them but there’s nothing of any interest. Rotting clothes that crumble as I push them aside to see if a book might be hidden beneath them.
“Next room,” Dugald says.
I nod and he leads the way again. We search a dozen rooms and it’s all the same. All of them look like bedrooms, all of them are empty, and nothing seems to be bringing us closer to our goal.
